


Promises at Sundown

by cpacesowboyed



Series: Andrew Minyard Works Through His Issues, Goddamnit [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Andrew Minyard Loves Neil Josten, Established Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Men Crying, Mental Breakdown, POV Andrew Minyard, Post-Canon, Protective Neil Josten, Soft Andrew Minyard, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cpacesowboyed/pseuds/cpacesowboyed
Summary: Somethings gotta break eventually, right?
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: Andrew Minyard Works Through His Issues, Goddamnit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900600
Comments: 11
Kudos: 279





	Promises at Sundown

**Author's Note:**

> for maximum sadness, please read this while listening to Future Days by Pearl Jam

Some people were genetically made up to not cry, and there was nothing wrong with these people, they were perfectly normal. It was just the way they were coded. Andrew had read that once on the internet. It was an obvious click bait article involving some science about genetic abnormalities. Andrew Minyard wasn’t born with any genetic abnormalities if you ignored his height, which wasn’t a genetic abnormality at all. It was just genetic. You could ask his brother, and if you wanted further proof you could even check what height was on Tilda Minyard’s driver license. You couldn’t ask her in person due to the fact she was already six feet in the ground and because no one was around to confirm who’s fault the car crash really was, you could definitely ask Andrew in the flesh. Though, if you liked your body without stab wounds, it was probably best not to. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t cry, because he could. There were many times when he wanted to, but he just didn’t. Tears, to him, were nothing but a weakness. A useless expression only serving to show how truly afraid you were, and if you showed fear, then the fight was already over. It didn’t matter if it was even the slightest bit. Animals know when you’re afraid. And they like it. 

Despite the fact that it’d been years since they were “Monsters”, Andrew still liked the way the word sounded when it left the mouths of suspecting people. It was better if he was the one they were scared of, instead of the other way around. The thing about everyone thinking you’re a monster is that they knew you probably did something to deserve that title, and would rather not risk giving you a reason to do it again. So yes, as far as everyone knew, Andrew was a monster. He wasn’t so sure about the others though, who no doubt had less to confess to than him, but because they followed him, loyal as dogs, they were labeled by association. Monsters.

So right now, the Monsters were in the car, on their way to Columbia for the long weekend. The Foxes had won both their games this week, home and away, and had come out of them with minor injuries. The games were scheduled for Tuesday and Thursday, which wasn’t special at all. Neil asked him to play like he meant it, which was. So he did. Because he would do anything Neil asked. He was weak, but even the worst monsters had their vulnerabilities. 

Kevin, who was busy looking at his phone screen, was sitting in the seat on the furthest end from him, completely disinterested in anything that wasn't the Pro Exy stream he’d downloaded for the drive over. His cousin and brother occupied the two front seats of the Maserati Neil had once given Andrew. Nicky was driving, singing along with the radio about days when he was feeling broken, focusing on a prayer. Aaron looked tired. Haunted. But he always had that look on him nowadays. Andrew knew he only looked really happy when he was with Katelyn. He tried to ignore the stinging feeling in his chest when he recalled this fact, and it almost worked. Almost.

Just as the Masterati was something Neil gave to Andrew, Neil’s head was leaning on Andrew’s shoulder, a show of the trust Andrew had once given Neil and continued to keep giving. He never intended to stop the constant stream of “yeses”. He didn’t think he could if he wanted to, and there were many times before they were together that he wanted to. Not because he didn’t want Neil, but because he didn’t think he could have Neil without corrupting what little part of himself that was left that remained human. 

When he was medicated, he thought that the things he felt for Neil were just a side effect of the drugs. They’d go away when he came off of them, and then he’d never think about Neils boyish smile or stupid face ever again. After he’d been released from East Haven, he realized they would not go away. Neil was scared and beaten and looked so much more attainable than Andrew had previously believed. Neil’s lips were chapped the first time he’d kissed them, but he didn’t mind. He told himself to stop, because what if one day, he was left alone again? Or what if one day, Andrew became what he’d always feared? Things were a lot more complicated from then on, because neither boy could find it in themselves to reject the other. It wasn’t as if Andrew thought that Neil could “fix him”. He’d made it very clear that they were not each other’s answers, and they never would be. But if two very broken things lay side by side, wasn’t it kind of nice to think that they could be irreparable together? A painting torn to shreds next to a vase, destroyed. Shattered. They were a museum of sadness and unsavory memories. That was okay though. With all that Neil wanted him. With all that he wanted Neil. They couldn’t fix each other but they could sure as hell try to stop each other from descending even further down the rabbit hole of human desolation.

From hallucination, to pipedream, to something he once refused to put a name to, because there was nothing to name it. This was the progression of their relationship. He never named it because saying “boyfriend” wasn't quite appropriate. It was a cheap word that did nothing to encapsulate all that they were, but it was the thing that explained them the best to an outside eye. Only Neil understood that it went beyond that, and that was okay. He was the only other person who needed to understand it. So now you have their relationship, all laid out in front of you.

Their hands were intertwined inside of Andrew’s hoodie pocket when he began to feel it. Neil’s hand was roughed up and scarred but he still liked the way it fit inside of his own. Like maybe it was always supposed to go there. Andrew didn’t believe in soulmates, but he did think he believed that Neil’s hand was made to hold his. It wasn’t the hand he felt though, it was the familiar uncomfortableness that came with being touched. Breathing was becoming difficult, for no reason other than he felt smothered. Not by the people in the car. Never by them. But by the invisible body currently forcing its way on top of him. Telling him to say “please”. Tickling him. Pinning him forever to his past. His skin was pulling tight and he wished he could crawl out of it and begin to be okay again. He could say again now, because he was starting to feel okay recently.

With the ghosts looming on him, he fought the urge to let go and be alone. Nothing could hurt you if you were alone, except yourself, but that’s a different discussion. Andrew tried to tell himself that he wanted this because he did. That Neil’s hand, cradled in his, fingers laced together, was alright. It was good, and it was safe, and it was home. He clutched onto the hand tighter in an attempt to ground himself, but that only served to wake the other boy up. 

The only thing worse than worrying about himself, in Andrew’s expert opinion, was Neil worrying about him. He lifted his head from Andrew's neck and he felt a thousand times better, almost regretfully. When he withdrew his hand, Andrew could see the nail marks he’d left in Neil’s skin. 

He didn’t mean to hurt Neil. He never meant to hurt Neil. Sure, there was the time when they’d first met and he swung an Exy racket into his stomach. And those times when he’d told Neil he wanted to kill him, but that wasn’t true. He believed that they’ve progressed significantly past that, and even then, Neil knew he was just showing his screwy way of affection. Right? “It was an accident.”

Neil’s voice was nonexistent, but Andrew knew the question he was asking anyway. It was, “Are you okay?”

Andrew could feel the tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Threatening to fall at any moment. One misstep or intrusive thought and he would be Niagara fucking Falls. He pushed them back with a practiced ease, but there was still the matter of a lump in his throat. The buildup of bile and sickness. If he said anything else, he knew his voice would crack. Instead, he nodded and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the window, letting the shakes and bumps of the road take him away from his seat in the Maserati. Nobody needed to know about this slight drawback.

They were nearing Eden's Twilight now. Roads shifted into a familiar downtown block, bustling with party goers. Some were puking on the streets.

“Slight drawback” was what he called it. 

Neil had seen something Andrew had quietly tucked away, hidden from the rest of the world, just as he always had. 

Nicky pulled into the club’s parking lot and struggled to find a spot to park in. Eventually he did, and everyone filed out of the car as they had been doing for years. All except for the pair. Andrew had stayed behind so so had Neil. This was new.

“What are you doing? Go inside already.”

Neil put his hand on a spot on his stomach. “Can’t. I’m cramping. I don’t want to get hurt on the dance floor and risk my Exy career.” 

Neil didn’t dance. 

“Remember? The one I owe to the mafia?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You can laugh at the fact that my life is determined on how well I fling a ball at a net. I mean, it’s not funny, but you can still laugh.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I find it hilarious. You’re still an idiot.” 

He moved to the furthest end of the seat, ending up on the complete opposite side of Andrew. 

“So I’ve heard.” Neil kicked his shoes up onto the leather and crossed them at the ankle. Shoes barely an inch from his thigh. He was close enough to ground Andrew, if he needed to, but far enough away to allow him space. It was scary how in tune to each other they were. “We can go to the house. They can probably get a cab or something.”

“They could hitchhike.” He said, because he couldn’t miss an opportunity to be an asshole.

“That could work.” Neil rested the back of his head against the window. “Maybe pose as a student and find their way back to the school?”

“I’m fine, Neil. You can go in.”

“I already told you.” He put his hand on his heart this time, “cramp”

-

The house in Columbia was quiet, which wasn’t weird considering it was two in the morning and the rest of their party wore themselves out...well, partying. Andrew lay awake, keenly aware of the even breaths coming from the opposite side of the mattress, so unlike his own. 

Sweat covered his arms, but he refused to take off his shirt. Instead, he lay on top of the bed's comforter, waiting for the air conditioning to turn on and offer some sort of temporary relief. 

The nightmare he’d had tonight wasn’t like the others. Recently, they'd been so far and few between, becoming less and less until he thought they were no more. But he should’ve known that that was impossible. This one showed up out of nowhere. It was the event of Thanksgiving, reimagined. Aaron was being pinned down instead of him, begging for help. Bloody. God, there was so much blood.

If that actually happened, he didn’t think he’d have the gall to kill Drake, even after all these years. Aaron and him were made of the same ferocious stuff, yes, but they would still cower in the face of the things that had hurt them. Aaron to Tilda and Andrew to Drake. If you burned yourself jumping over a fire pit, would you bother attempting to go over it again? He liked to think that he would’ve fought, but in the end, his body would resort to the fear it's always known. Buckle up and just stop. That’s what scared him the most. Not being able to save his brother. Not being strong enough to fight back. The negatives constantly outweighing everything.

The dream replayed on a loop, and he wanted nothing more than for it to stop. To be able to close his eyes and not see the horrors that lie beneath them, in the deepest caverns of his mind, which were obviously not that deep after all if they could climb up and make themselves known so easily. So he took the risk, and found that they were wet and warm when he opened them.

“Shit.” He removed his hand from underneath Neil's pillow. It was numb but he paid it no mind when he used it to wipe a tear. Then another. And another. They wouldn’t stop. He didn’t want to cry, he really didn’t. But since when did Andrew ever get what he wanted?

Truth be told, this was a long time coming. Years and years of hurt all buried under a tombstone marked “Andrew Minyard”. Someone had been slowly digging his grave, but when they opened the casket they only found a skeleton of the once hopeful boy he’d always been. An outline for the hopeful man he wanted to become. He thought that maybe it was himself on the other end of the shovel. Of course he was his own betrayer. The Brutus to his Ceasar. Et tu, Andrew?

How he hated the whimper that left his mouth. He moved his hand from his eye and used it to cover his mouth. He was shaking now, choking back everything. Or attempting to. The past. The present. The future. What could’ve happened. What he wanted but could never have because of what did happen. Andrew was beginning to wonder why all these thoughts that had nothing to do with each other kept coming at him. One by one they piled up until his mind was a cacophony of every little thing that had ever gone wrong.

“Andrew?” Neil must’ve noticed his hand was gone. Or Andrew must’ve not been quiet enough. Neil turned on a lamp and exposed Andrew's pathetic state of whatever this was. A mental breakdown? No, he wouldn’t put a name to it. If he did then it would be real, and Andrew Minyard didn’t cry.

It was obvious that Neil didn’t know where to put what or where to begin to comfort him. Maybe if he was anyone else, Neil would’ve hugged him. Held him tightly and told him that it would be alright.

Even if he didn’t know where to put his support, it was there, Andrew knew. Physical comfort was another example of something Andrew was robbed of because of all the problematic happenstances of his life.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Andrew nodded and bit on the knuckle of his thumb, trying to stop the flow of tears. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

After a moment he said, “He was there. And it wasn’t-“ He put his hands in his hair, and his head between his legs. Desperate to find someplace to put himself that would make it seem like he was less of a mess than he actually was. Sniffling, he continued, “it wasn’t me...it was Aaron and I couldn’t do anything. Neil why couldn’t I do anything? I just stood there.”

Neil whispered, “Look at me.” 

“I just fucking watched.” If he did look at Neil right now, he was afraid of what he might see. “I can’t.” He sucked in a shaky breath and coughed it back out. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

“Hey, Andrew, it’s gonna be okay.” He must’ve figured out what he was referring to. He was there that day, after all. “He's dead. He can’t hurt you. Or Aaron. Do you want me to call Betsy?”

"No. It's not." He finally raised his head, and in the mirror that hung on the wall across the bed, he could finally see how terribly sad he looked. Eyes red, face wet, lips puffy. “It's not going to be okay. Don’t call Betsy.” 

Neil moved to sit in between the two Andrews. One was false, the other was a piss poor excuse for a lover. He wouldn’t even allow Neil to touch him anywhere but the top of his in the beginning of their relationship. Of course he wanted to give Neil more than that but it took time. It took work. Effort. And despite the fact that he’d moved on to giving him his arms, his chest, more than he’d ever wanted to give anyone, he was still trying. They both were. "You're right. It probably won't be okay. But that's okay, do you understand?"

He began to move his hand toward Andrew's hair, but hesitated. In response, Andrew hung his head. It’d been long since they had last played their “yes or no” game, but in times like these, he appreciated Neil’s caution.

Neil carded just fingers through his hair once, then brought both his hands down to Andrew's face to wipe away his tears using the pads of his thumbs. 

He wanted this, he knew he did, and he promised that he wouldn’t hurt Neil trying to take it. Letting his hands clutch the sleeves of Neil's hoodie, which actually belonged to him, he said something true. “I want more than this.” He tugged harder on the sleeves but Neil was steel. “They just..they took so much away and I’m not sure if I’m allowed to have it without making you regret it all.” 

This was unguarded. So unlike him to say something without his usual snark. But Neil needed to know, even if he already understood it without Andrew saying, that even if he couldn’t always give all of himself, he would give as much as he could. He just wasn’t sure how much that was yet. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more...in the beginning. I wanted to give you more.”

“I know.” There wasn’t any pity in Neil’s eyes.

Andrew was rambling now. All of his hidden insecurities coming out like word vomit. “How did you do it? I didn’t even let you touch me, yet you still wanted me?” 

“You think I only loved you because of what you gave me? The kisses?”

“Maybe it was the handjobs...” he said, because Andrew Minyard couldn’t resist being an asshole, even if he was a sobbing mess.

“You gave me more than touch, Andrew. You gave me keys...a home. Told me to stay. I loved you for that. You’re an Exy god, Minyard. I love you for that, and I’m reminded of it every time you step onto that goddamn court. There are too many things on the list of reasons I love you, and very little of them have to do with how physical we are. Saying them all would take up the rest of the night but if you’re still not convinced, then I'm willing to do it.” Neil held his head so his eyes were forced to focus on his. Deep pools of blue that you’d drown in, accidentally. “Even if you decided to never so much as brush your shoulder against mine ever again, I’d still fucking love you. Because this,” he gestured in between them, “is more than that. You know that. You just have to know that by now.”

“I don’t understand.” They didn’t say I love you, and this was honestly the first time he’d heard it pass Neil's lips. How tragically appropriate for them. “I don’t fucking understand.”

"Is it because I told you that I love you? I mean it."

"I-" He began, but was cut off.

“You once told me that you weren’t going to be like them. That’s true for me too. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to. I don’t want to,” he could feel Neil’s breath on his face. It still smelled like the mint ice cream he’d stolen spoonfuls of from Andrew after dinner. “You’re not okay, and that’s okay. I’m here. I’m always going to be here, and I'm always going to love you. Doesn't matter how much you give me. You understand this, yes or no? ”

The tears were still coming but that didn’t stop them from leaning against each other, forehead to forehead. He finally crumpled, resting his head in the crook of Neil’s neck. After a brief moment of uncertainty, Neil wrapped his arms around Andrew, pulling him closer.

“Yes.” Andrew whispered. He wasn’t going to be like them. Neither would Neil. Andrew had made plenty of promises in the past, all of them turned out to be plastic or no longer needed, but this might be the first one he was making that would be for him. “You're such a sap.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading  
> feel free to leave some nice words down below  
> or follow my tumblr (where i am undoubtedly less funny) @spacecowboyed


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